


a feeling that I can't domesticate

by coraxes



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fun With Blood Hunter Options, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode 4, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 07:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13566096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coraxes/pseuds/coraxes
Summary: Everyone in their little group was hiding something—Fjord was trying to act like he wasn’t a Triton bound to some kind of weird sword, Beau was trying to act like she wasn’t running away from her parents, Caleb and Nott were shady little bitches.  Fine, fine, that was fine.  Jester could keep their secrets.Molly disappears, and comes back with a slight problem.





	a feeling that I can't domesticate

**Author's Note:**

> CW for emetophobia & body horror, neither of which are graphically described.
> 
> Title is from Fall Out Boy's "Bishop's Knife Trick" because I am a basic bitch.

So Jester was curious about the other tiefling.  So sue her.  She was a cleric of the _Traveler,_ hello, of course she wanted to know what people were hiding.  Everyone in their little group was hiding something—Fjord was trying to act like he wasn’t a Triton bound to some kind of weird sword, Beau was trying to act like she wasn’t running away from her parents, Caleb and Nott were shady little bitches.  Fine, fine, that was fine.  Jester could keep their secrets.

The problem was she didn’t _know_ Molly’s, and that was driving her up the _wall._ Or up the…trees.  Whatever.  She liked to know things, was the point, and she liked to tell the Traveler about them.

For the few weeks they spent on the road to Zadash, Jester just paid attention instead of asking questions.  That was how she learned most things, by paying attention.  For some reason people thought that since she was adorable and had a beautiful accent she was some kind of stupid innocent little girl, so they said things around her that they might not otherwise.

But Molly didn’t fall for that.  He lied about where he got his swords, and why he cut himself when he fought, but never the same lies twice.  Jester tried to play nice, taking the watch with him and offering to heal him up whenever they ran into bandits or owlbears.  But maybe he didn’t like nice, because sometimes they’d be having a good little conversation about the circus or what pies were the best, and Jester would see his smile get a little faker and his accent would get a little stronger, and she knew he didn’t trust her.

Not that she was doing all of this just to trick him, or anything.  Molly was fun.  He knew card tricks, and he flirted back instead of going all bashful like Fjord did.  Jester would have wanted to get to know him even if he wasn’t hiding things.  But still.  She was curious.

So when they settled down at an inn in Zadash and Molly announced, “I’ve got business to take care of that will take me away for some time,” Jester’s curiosity was…piqued.

“What kind of business?” she asked, pretending not to notice as Nott stuck her hand in Jester’s pocket. 

“And how much time are we talkin’?” asked Fjord, eyes wary.  Ridiculous, Jester thought.  Caleb and Fjord both were so paranoid.

“Two or three days, perhaps,” said Molly with a kind of studied casualness.  “I’ll leave tomorrow.  I need to see a man about my swords.”

“For two or three _days_?” Beau raised one eyebrow.

“Yes, well—” Molly’s speech stammered to a halt.  His jaw worked once, and then he took a swig of his tankard.  For a second his careful façade wore away, and Jester realized—he was _scared._

Molly.  Scared.  Of telling them something?  Or of what he was about to do?

“Listen,” he said, “you know I can do weird shit with these swords.  Well, I’m about to learn to do more weird shit.  It’s all a bit secretive and I swear I’ll tell you afterwards, if everything goes well.  If not, I’m sure you’ll hear about it one way or another.”

Jester frowned.  “Is this dangerous, Molly?  Are you going to need some help?  You know we’ll back you up.”

“It’s not the kind of thing I need backup for,” Molly said.  He drummed his fingers on the tabletop in a nervous tic Jester hadn’t seen before.  She stretched out her leg, finding his across from her, and hooked her boot around one of his ankles.  Footsie was comforting, she was pretty sure.  Molly shot her a startled look, and Jester smiled.  “But—thank you.  Just do me a favor: don’t worry about me, don’t follow me, and I’ll tell you about it later, I swear.”

Jester was definitely going to follow him.  “Of course,” she promised, smiling sweetly, and one by one the party agreed.

Molly returned to his food.  Jester wondered if she could persuade Caleb to get Frumpkin involved in this.

But as it turned out, she didn’t get the chance to follow Molly.  He disappeared in the middle of the night instead.  Spoilsport.

* * *

 

They managed to last the next few days without getting into serious trouble, for once.  After weeks on the road it was nice to be in a place with _people_ again, not to mention actual beds and baths and things.  Jester spent some of her money on a wonderful little thing that the vendor called a bath bomb, and gave it to Caleb as a hint.  Nott got caught stealing from a bookstore while they were shopping, but Fjord said she was his daughter who didn’t know any better and promised the owner that he would keep an eye on her, so no one got arrested.  Beau found a little store called the Slayer’s Cake and they ate soooooo many pastries, those were very good.

But Molly was still missing, and Jester wondered.  Not worried! 

“Okay, maybe a little worried,” she muttered one night, as she doodled him lost in a maze.

“Wazzat?” asked Beau.

“Nothing, nothing, just drawing for the Traveler and that is all.”

After the third day passed with no sign of him Jester was ready to start actually searching.  Fjord calmed her down a little bit—the man really did have nice hugs to go with his nice voice, and Jester told him so—and said that if he didn’t show up by noon the next day they could start posting fliers and things. 

Still, Jester sat up way too late at the bar, eating leftover donuts for a midnight snack and carving a vagina into the table (equality!).  Good thing she did too, because just when she was putting the finishing details on her carving, Molly walked in.

Staggered was probably a better word for it.  He was practically falling on the door instead of pushing it open.

“Mollymauk!” Jester shrieked, jumping to her feet. 

Molly winced, his eyes dragging up from the floor to meet hers.  They took a moment to focus, and there were deep bags under them. 

Oh.  He was tired, and it was late.  “Mollymauk!” Jester said again, in a whisper this time, and darted over to him.  “You look tired.  Do you need help getting up the stairs?”

He waved her off.  “It’s fine, I’m fine, I made my way across town and you’re going to anyway.”  This was true.  Jester pulled his arm around her shoulders and wrapped her arm around his thin waist.  “Thanks, Jester.”

“No problem for me, I’m very strong.”  Then she wrinkled her nose.  He smelled like wet dog.  “Where’ve you been?  What happened on your super-secret business?”

“Can we talk about this later?  It’s a long story.  I don’t want to have to tell it twice.” 

Jester rolled her eyes.  “Fine, fine.  But don’t think I’ll be forgetting about this, Mister Molly.”

Molly’s chuckle was warm and sent a shock of butterflies to Jester’s stomach.  “I expect you won’t.”

Jester led him into Fjord’s room and tucked him into the second bed without waking Fjord up, and then went to her own room, thinking about how inconvenient it was to get a little crush on the shady guy whose secrets you were trying to find out.

She probably would have grilled him the next morning at breakfast, too, along with the rest. 

Only someone had reported her and Fjord to the Crownguard as heretics. 

So they woke up to an inn surrounded by guards instead (“Wasn’t me!” shrieked Nott, “I didn’t do nothing!”), and between escaping those mean guys and running into the forest, there wasn’t much of a chance to ask Molly about his weird business.

* * *

 

Two days later they camped in the forest, well off the road to Zadash.  It was the first chance they had to stop and rest since the whole “rah, heretics, arrest them” thing happened.  Nott had fully passed out and was sleeping in Caleb’s backpack by the time they set up their campsite, and once everything was ready they all followed her example. 

Jester put up a spell to warn about intruders—no one would be able to stay awake on watch—but instead of going to sleep herself, she started drawing things for the Traveler instead.  He had been very helpful in their escape, in Jester’s opinion, and deserved a little recap.

So, once again, Jester was the only one awake to see Mollymauk—only this time he was sneaking out of camp.  She heard the rustle of footsteps and peeked out of the tent to see who it was.  At first, she was ready to dismiss him; probably he was just going to the bathroom or something.  But he looked…wrong, hunched over and shivery.  One of his hands curled around his middle like he needed to throw up, and Jester _swore_ she saw talons growing out of them for a second, then shrinking back down.

Maybe this was the shady thing he still hadn’t told them about.

Jester waited until he was further away, then eased herself out of the tent to follow him, keeping her footsteps light as he dragged himself deeper into the forest.

Finally he stopped, leaned against a tree, and let out a long breath.  Molly pulled off his dark cloak, threw it on the ground, and his shoulders spasmed.  In the moonlight Jester saw thick fur sprout from his skin for a moment and then recede back.

And for the first time, she realized tonight was a full moon.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, and Molly whirled around. 

“Jester, what—” He shuddered again.  Yellow bloomed across his eyes until they were gold with slit pupils, like Frumpkin’s or Fjord’s; then the red slowly leaked back.  “You should go back to camp.”

She walked closer instead.  “You’re a weresomething.”  Jester’s eyes widened as a thought occurred to her.  “That was what you were doing the other day, oh my gosh!”

Mollymauk gave her a smile that was mostly teeth.  Or maybe that was more of a threat thing, if he was a weresomething.  “Yes.  Now get back to _camp,_ Jester, I don’t know what will happen, I’ve only done this once and there were—precautions.”

Probably staying was stupid, okay, Jester knew that because she wasn’t stupid.  But there was naked fear in Molly’s voice.  And technically maybe he was kind of shady and a liar, but he was a friend, and she wasn’t going to leave her friend.

“Well, this time I will be a precaution,” said Jester.  It made more sense in her head.  She was very tired.

Molly stared at her, then gasped as _something_ happened; he grew a little bit bigger and Jester heard a _riiip_ as his clothes protested.  She clapped him on the shoulder.  “First things first.  Clothes off.”

“This is not the situation I imagined you saying that in,” Molly muttered, shrugging off his coat.  “But I mean it, Jester.  I could be—dangerous.  Not sure how much control I have at the moment.”

“Yes, yes, very dangerous, I know.”  She wasn’t stupid.  But also, based on past experience, Jester was pretty sure nothing super bad could happen to her, and she had dealt with a lot worse than whatever fuzzy thing Molly was trying to turn into. 

Molly’s fingers weren’t working right so Jester had to help him with his belt, which was kind of sexy, especially because his shirt was off so she accidentally-on-purpose traced the raised ridges of his scars.  But then another of those ripply shivery things happened, and Molly turned to the side and threw up.

“Sorry,” he said.  He was as hoarse as if he’d been screaming.

“It’s fine,” said Jester. 

But it was a lot less sexy after that, because she realized that having your body try to turn into something else was probably kind of painful.  Also because she could smell vomit.

Finally, Molly was out of his clothes—he didn’t seem uncomfortable with being naked in front of her, at least.  Jester didn’t feel awkward but the whole thing was kind of intimate for a person she’d known for like, three weeks, and Molly liked his privacy.  The little ripples of transformation were getting longer, too, lasting for four or five seconds at a time instead of one, then for thirty seconds, then running into minutes.

In the middle of one Molly dropped his head onto her shoulder.  Jester curved her hand around his head and stroked the base of his horns; they were changing too, shrinking into his skull and then getting longer again.  His hands came up to clutch at her cloak, her dress, careful not to puncture her with the claws that kept growing. 

“You want me to sing to distract you?  I’m really good at singing.”  She was really shit at singing.

Molly chuckled.  “No.  But—talk to me, perhaps?”

“About what?”

“Anything, anything.  Tell me something—” He gasped, grip tightening, and when he spoke again his voice was garbled.  “Something funny.” 

His legs were shaking, so Jester guided them down until they were on their knees on the forest floor.  And then she told him about the first time her father had brought her along for a con.  Molly didn’t laugh even though it was pretty hilarious, if Jester said so herself, but she didn’t hold it against him.  Just waited and told stories as the night dragged on, and watched striped fur sprout from his skin.

After one of those almost-transformations that dragged on for ten minutes, there was a long shudder, and a _crack-crack-crack_ that Jester realized had to be bone, and Molly’s hands dropped from her dress because they were paws now.  Hot breath streaked over her neck.  Then he pulled back, and Jester looked into eyes that were much different now because they belonged to a tiger.

“Hello there,” she said.  This should be scary, Molly thought he would be scary, but tiger-Molly seemed okay.  “Are you done?”

In answer Molly swiped his tongue over her cheek.  Probably it should be weird because he was, you know, a person who was not usually a tiger.  Jester decided not to worry about it.  It was that kind of night. 

“Can you change back now?”

He shook his head, then jerked it up to look at the moon.  So, maybe he could change back when it was morning.

“Okay,” said Jester.  “That’s okay then.  If you’re done, I’m going to go to sleep, and you probably should too.”  She could go to camp but also she didn’t want to walk anymore.  So she scooted away from the place where Molly had puked earlier and laid down, pulling her cloak around herself.  She heard tiger-Molly let out a huffy breath that sounded just like tiefling-Molly’s laugh. 

Then Jester remembered one thing, one thing that was really important.  “But when I wake up, you have some ‘splaining to do, don’t forget that,” she said, not bothering to open her eyes.  Jester felt the tiger’s warm weight settle next to her, and then she was asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> In case y'all didn't know, one of the blood hunter options is called the Order of the Lycan, where the blood hunter gets ritually infected with lycanthropy. Tiger is one of the more common strains. Only a hybrid form transformation is mentioned in the RAW, but it doesn't say you _can't_ just transform into a tiger so. You know.
> 
> This fic owes a lot to the transformation scenes in the Darkest Powers series by Kelley Armstrong. I haven't read those books in years but they stuck in my mind, so I would feel like a plagiarist if I didn't give them a shoutout here.
> 
> Comments and kudos are <3\. This is my first time writing either of these two, so I'd love to know what you think!


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